


Lost Until Found

by Heart_The_Legend



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda AUish?, Recipe of a disaster no?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-01-01 00:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18325067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_The_Legend/pseuds/Heart_The_Legend
Summary: The last conversation between the twins didn't end well, and so he mourned for her...Ten years later...He could take it back by getting her back.(This is an AU about what if Della can't go back and had to transmission SOS, and the one who found out the transmission is none other than Donald?)





	1. Prologue

**_T R A N S M I S S I O N   L O S T_ **

 

Two words. Sixteen letters.

This is what he saw.

“It's all red, a blinding red!” The voice cried in the darkness, “why it had to be her when it could’ve been me?”

 

Mourned for the loss of the other half,

grieved for the loss of the nephews’ mother,

lamented for the loss of trust with the father figure,

regretted the loss of everything he had.

 

_“It should've been him!”,_

_“You're the one who let her died!”,_

_“A failure!”,_

_“The worst!”_

 

He agreed with silent tears and deafening screams.

Nights had passed, days had farewells, yet the brother still reached out on blue as he wailed.

Two words. Sixteen letters.

He still muttered it to see no green for ten years.

* * *

Donald wakes up to the sound of the alarm that has been ringing throughout the houseboat. He is breathing wildly, sweating profusely, trembling nonstop as he scans around him to find back in the reality.

"A nightmare again…”

He sighs as he brushes his hands against his cheek to feel the same as any before, sweat or tears, he doesn’t care, it's still there. He stretches and sits up on his hammock, opens up the window for air, staggers to the other side of the room before he slams the alarm clock at the top of the drawer, but it still rings to his chagrin.

He rubs his forehead as he grumbles, “not a good time to give me a headache…” He throws it out on the window before he remembers his place, rushes over to the opened window and gulps as he sees at the distance is the one and only, Scrooge McDuck, holding the alarm clock with furious expression while rubbing the bump on his head.

“Curse me kilts! Who threw this alarm clock?!” Scrooge booms out as he knew how his uncle can be really mad whenever someone ruined his walk. Temper runs in the family.

He tiptoes to the exit, sits on the edge of the boat, carefully dips his feet on the pool before dives in and hopes to escape from clutches of the wrath of the McDuck. Besides, he has breakfast to prepare.

Usually, Beakley or Duckworth is the cook on the manor, but ever since the Duck family joined in, he and his nephews are technically freeloaders, it would be fair for him to do the chores and miraculously find a stable job that would last a month (especially Scrooge absolutely hates freeloaders).

After he dries himself up by changing his nightwear to usual black sailor uniform after a nice bath and erasing his wet tracks with a mop, he grabs every necessary utensils and ingredient to cook English breakfast and pancakes.

Lot of work, but for Donald, it's a practice.

“Can I help you, sir?” Donald squawks in surprise to see Duckworth with a smile. _Oh right_ , he thinks, _he loves to help whenever I cooked._ And he smiles back to the ghost butler.

“Sure, you can prepare warm milk, coffee, tea, and fix up the table while I cook bacon, eggs, sausages and pancakes.” The butler nods in understanding, and so they begin their work.

* * *

 

“Another fine breakfast, lad.” Scrooge compliments with satisfaction on his face as he sips his favorite nutmeg tea. It took time for the two to talk without any tension or awkward silence, and to everyone's mercy, they finally able to have a normal conversation to which to the point having a petty argument.

“I can’t believe I get a chance to taste Donald Duck's food again!” Webby excitedly pictures with her camera of the stack of pancake with syrup in every angle. Donald is still surprised that he's still a big deal, even though he's not much of an adventurer.

_However, she is different…_

“Mm~ No one can really beat Uncle Donald's pancakes!” Dewey says as the chewed bits of pancakes scatter on the table cloth, much to Donald's (and Scrooge's) dismay.

“Dewey, don’t talk with your food in your mouth! You might get choked!” Donald scolds while Scrooge sputters something about “table cloth costs more!”, Dewey rolls his eyes on usual uncle's maternal nature, but he gulps it down.

“Really delicious. This meal could bring much profit!” Louie takes a delightful bite with a fork pierced in through sticky syrup to fluffy pancake and slowly gives a glance to his uncle as the latter flustered.

“O-oh? Really?”

_Maybe I should apply for the cook in that restaurant I saw yesterday._

“Uncle Donald, can you teach me how to cook later? I need this to get another badge.” Huey looks at him with puppy eyes to which he can’t say no (like he would even say no to his boys unless he had to).

“Of course!” Huey stands up and hugs his uncle while thanking him with glee, and Donald chuckles as he hugs back and pats his head. He could feel everyone watches them, especially Scrooge as he easily imagines his fond smile and proud look.

After breakfast, Donald gathers every plate to a sink for a cleanup. The water's running with a mix of dish soap, rubbing the stains off with a towel. Time passes until he finally finishes the last plate with his reflection shown, sighs in satisfaction.

“This breakfast made me forgot about the clock incident.” Donald yelps as he turns to find Scrooge with his smirk at the doorway, gulps as he feared to face his wrath.

“You found out?” The nephew sends his uncle a sheepish look, and in return, he gets an amused look.

“I know my nephew enough that he would wake up five in the morning. There is no other person to wake up that early, except me, Mrs. Beakley and Duckworth, and the only one who is stupid enough to throw a clock on the window would be you, other than my enemies but they have their own schedule and certainly would not be around this early. However, I must applaud for covering ye tracks.”

“I don’t know whether I should be impressed that you still know me, even after a decade, or be offended that you called me stupid.” They both laugh.

"Listen, Donald, I just wanted to let you know that-" Before he could continue, he is interrupted when they hear a calling voice from the child.

“Are you going, Uncle Scrooge?!” Dewey's yell is heard out by two remaining ducks.

“Going on an adventure this early already?” Donald squints his eyes to Scrooge with suspicion.

“Lad, I'm bringing Mrs. Beakley again, if that makes you happy.”

“Good, good, please take good care of my children.”

“Oh? Not trusting yer ol’ uncle?” Donald's unamused glare says it.

“Alright, fine, but ye better also take care of my mansion!" Scrooge steps forward before he turns with softened expression, "and let's continue our conversation after you teach Huey how to cook." And he left with a soft smile as Donald breathes until he realizes he hasn’t turned off the water. He panics and slips on the wet kitchen tiles.

* * *

Donald groans in pain after many mishaps happened as he slipped and slid all over the place because of his cursed bad luck, but he eventually saved the manor from being flooded. He relaxes on the sofa in the living room as he plans to watch the recordings of the life with the boys along with their adventures (from Scrooge.)

Ever since he brought his own recordings, Scrooge admitted that it's a good idea (“It seems I underestimated ya.” “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”) and decided to join in. He presses the power button on the remote and the TV screen shows the birth of the triplets, he smiles as his familiar teary cry plays on the speakers when Hubert was born before the other two, all cried as the camera gotten shaky. He doesn't even know who cried the hardest.

 

_This is for Della when she returns._

_IF, not WHEN, she ever returns, she's dead._

_No, s-she's not!_

_Oh really? Then what about her missing a decade?_

_The time is different on outer space from what I remembered on sci-fi movie!_

_Even so, why she didn’t contact?_

_Maybe there's a technical problem?_

_The key word is “maybe”, stop denying the truth._

_No, I know she's alive!_

_Did you even remember what you last said to her?!_

_I-_

**_“I had enough! You always went to adventure, but never even care for your family! You are the-"_ **

 

The ringing saves him again as it grabs his attention, and it comes from a business cellphone that was left forgotten on the table. He curses himself as he counts the number of his breath and thinks something to distract him, even a single short thought of last day's conversations.

Just something, not nothing.

_Scrooge isn't really kidding about leaving the cellphone when he said that he found it annoying._

It is enough.

He takes a huge breath and calls the cellphone.

“Hello, this is Donald Duck, Scrooge McDuck's nephew...”

“Uncle Scrooge won’t be here for hours since he’s on another adventure…”

“Emergency? What’s there for Scrooge to be in this ‘emergency' situation?”

“Signal…? What kind of signal?”

“A… transmission signal? W-where? Where it came from?!”

* * *

 

A final reply comes to his ears, and he rushes over.

Two words. Seventeen letters.

This is what he sees.

"It’s green…” The disbelief on his voice while facing the light, “it’s a bearing green…”

 

Expects for the return of the other half,

anticipates for the return of the nephews' mother,

hopes for the return of trust with the father figure,

wants for the return of everything he had lost.

 

_“You should be the one to save!”,_

_“You're the only one who can bring her back!”,_

_“You won’t be the failure!”,_

_“You will be the best!”_

 

He agrees with his thumping fears and breathless laughter.

Time remains still to the brother who reaches out on the blue sky as he laughs.

Two words. Seventeen letters.

He whispers to finally see the green for ten years.

 

**_T R A N S M I S S I O N   F O U N D_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : I was hesitant whether I wanted to post of how Della will return to the family, but I realized this certain part of my story won't happen in the show, so here it is.
> 
> Man, it still feels weird to write in my tablet, and not my laptop. I did better on laptop because typing satisfies me than tapping.
> 
> You guys remember that I have two broken laptops from last short story I wrote, right? Yep! I made the cover with pain and suffering of seven circles of hell before I finally finished it with my tablet and my thumb because I have no time to buy stylus (can't do online shopping because scam and shit). I'm kinda not satisfied with it, but this is all what I can do with Medibang. Although I had too much fun on highlight part.
> 
> P.S Do you guys know the song "Masquerade" by M2U (from Cytus)? Slow down the song, lower the pitch and boi, it's good. All I could imagined is two OCs dancing with each other, one is still pissed (Robert from one of my story, Forgotten Recognization) about abandoned Oswald and used Mickey, and other scared (has memories of Walt Disney) while Mickey and Oswald just watch their dads fighting ("Dad, please"). Speaking of OC, funny thing is, I somehow ship Robert and Donald because overprotective single fathers and they freaking look cute together when I drew them, what is wrong with me? ("Donald, that is my dad! Well, with his age changed like ours because he was finally chosen and pick whatever age he wanted, so it's not weird but still weird for me! This is weird for my best friend dating my dad!")
> 
> And, yay, today's my birthday, and after eleven days, it will be triplets' birthday.


	2. Chapter 1 - Transmission

 

Donald is running as fast as he can, along with his strained lungs and clenched fists, hauling his webbed feet to discover his car on the driveway, and as he barges in the vehicle and turns the key, only to turn no key, groans that he forgot to get his car keys from his houseboat.

“Now’s not the time!”

He hisses while bolting back to the houseboat as he almost trips over the edge of a walking plank, slamming the door open and sprinting toward his tiny bedroom, rummaging the drawer inside with a beaten up alarm clock on top.

“Where is it?!” His temper is slowly growing in him before the sight lands on the metallic keys with a keychain. The hand snatches it up without a second thought, dashes through the path between the bedroom and the driveway (not before he locked the houseboat, of course), plummets himself on the driver seat, and with his keys in the rightful slot, the engine revs along his reflex to pedal down, and the car finally drives away with screeches to the horizon.

* * *

There were many moments that he wanted to pass the speed limits, but he has already burdened himself enough that he doesn’t want another one, so with the boiling impatience, he grumbles under his beak as he watches the traffic on line, twitches his arms and his tail as he squirms while waiting for the red to turn green.

 

_C'mon, stupid traffic light, change your light!_

_What's the rush?_

_Rushing back to find out about Della, of course!_

_Are you sure she sent it live, and not dated?_

_Not now! I don’t need you to lose my hope!_

_A hope that is nothing._

_A hope that is better to make it something._

_You only hurt yourself._

_I know, but I wanted to know the damn truth!_

_Even if she died?_

_… I-_

 

To his mercy, the light changes as it, once again, pulls him away from his thoughts. And the duck wastes no more time to step down with his tips of the fingers poking in he wheel, ditching the road with a taste of whirling specks of dust.

The speed is blurring the buildings, trees, sea, and sky with a tone of wild amber around him before perceiving the outlines of shapes when the destination beholds, and with that, the tires screech on the parking lot's concrete with his slammed brakes, turning the keys before nabbing it out in, noticing he hadn’t buckled the seatbelts when his hands trace over the torso to feel nothing, but he'll scold himself later for not doing the safety first as he has much more important priority.

_Alright then, keep on clinging that hope, only to know that she died and see how everything crashes around you._

The door is closed with a nicely done of a click of the lock before he stomps to the designated building.

_I'll show you that my hope is something worth._

* * *

Donald Duck considered himself to be a very patient duck, but to his temper and family in danger, it's a completely different story. He had been through many adventures with his twin sister, Della Duck, and his uncle, Scrooge McDuck. The twin brother recognized the repeat of his actions, the nephew memorized the nature of their adventures.

 

He knew when to stay low, they knew to head on,

he knew when to control the situation, they knew to risk their lives,

he knew when to stop under the limit, they knew to surpass above the limit,

he knew when to be safe, they knew to be in danger.

 

He is known to be the scapegoat of traps and dangers, especially on the adventures’ finale, so he must endure everything, even if his temper takes over, he can still hold back.

He is the most patient, but he is also the easiest to break down.

Many only seen him hurt in the end, but never of how much he was hurt in the beginning. He has his own mind. He has thoughts of many. He has memories of his gain and his loss. The matter of his was only to be naught when all of his attempts to forget the images failed that he always can draw in a second on the millions of blank paper, and so it replays on the nights with the mix of sweat and tears.

No one has ever seen him screaming openly, but they can hear it as the echoes of deafening screams haunted no one, it was a reminder.

No one has ever heard him tearing apart, but they can see it as the splatters of silent tears scarred no one, it was a warning.

But he still waits, even if it breaks him.

...

And it is worth it.

* * *

The worn legs have finally given out when he was led to the familiar room that he wished to never step in ten years ago.

He laughs breathlessly when the screen has finally shown of what he truly wanted, repeating the words with the voice of his, eyes reflect with the pupils tread over the green.

“It's green…” The memory of the red has been drowned as he comprehends everything, the ten-year-old disbelief slowly disappearing as he speaks once again, ‘it’s a bearing green…”

He can't breathe as the tears leak out, sweat drips over his chin. All that suspense, all that tension, all that trouble, are worth it. Ten years of her de- No, her disappearance has now ended with the screen of two words, seventeen letters.

 

**_T R A N S M I S S I O N   F O U N D_ **

 

Transmission has been lost until found.

Della has been lost until found.

The lost hope until the newfound hope.

Lost until found.

 

_I win._

* * *

 

The ride has never been so peaceful for so long along with the shoulders as the weights have finally been lifted. The fingers let themselves relaxed to the wheel's mercy and also as an apology of his, driving under the limit of speed, the irritating tire screeches were silenced, and the boiling impatience has finally been simmered down. He also remembered to buckle with seatbelts this time too.

He rolls the window down to feel the sea breeze as he simply looks up to see the bright moon, breathing without any hitches as the image of her smiling face with the grown long hair still imprinted in his mind, and it comforts him. Of course, her prosthetic leg and being almost killed by a moon mite that can spit corrosive acid almost got him traumatized (and wanting to fight it), but as long as she's still alive, that's all it matters, especially she's now with General Lunaris and Lieutenant Penumbra, two aliens that lived on the moon as they called themselves “Moonlanders”. She assured that they're good aliens as they gave her enough materials to fix the transmitter, she even best friended (to Donald, it's one-sided) Penumbra, so she's in good hands.

_...Moonlanders…_

_No, she's Della Duck. She can take care of herself._

_And the birthday…_ The boys are going to be so happy when he's about to bring the recording home, the one he copied in his phone. He will present it to them and say that their mother still cares for them, proven when shown that she kept attempting to fix the ship to go back home for ten years, even after she went to adventure and left them.

_She just wanted to show them the stars. She didn’t mean to leave them in the Earth. She's the…_

The thought fades as the familiar pictures and words are replaying in his mind, and thus his breathing pace is ruined. He curses as he starts to count from one to ten along with the rhythm of his heaving chest.

“Now's not the time to cry…” He whimpers as he keeps wiping the tears off, but after ten years with a thought that she died as he ended with the sour note, he can't stop crying as she is, not was, the one who he promised to always be together, especially ever since their parents died.

 _No, no, I must not think like that!_ He thinks, _think happy thoughts, Donald! Think happy thoughts!_

He continues to count the numbers as the street lights pass by, blending along the dark sky with a cluster of stars shining above with the waves crashing to the shore. He takes a deep breath and focuses on his driving while thinking happy thoughts.

_Okay, everyone will be so happy to find out the news. And when she finally returns, I can tell her every story she missed by showing those recordings, especially the birth of her beloved sons. The boys might be going to ask her a lot and overwhelm her with millions of questions, so I should try to get them in control. Her senses must've been messed up for being on the moon alone in a decade, so I better to get her therapy, whether she likes it or not._

He grins with the thought of transforming the current life to what it supposed to be ten years ago, imagining Della's fond expression on her face when the children are adventuring while trying to get know each other.

* * *

He catches the horizon of the familiar manor as he hears the incoming sounds of later to be crashed plane, so he speeds up and parks the car to where it belongs, sidetracks from the crash.

_Actually, please don’t crash!_

Too late!

Launchpad crashes the plane again on the driveway, merely right besides his car, and Donald rushes over to the, miraculously, unscathed family, but that never stops the protective uncle to go to the children's sides, ignoring the three adults having an argument on his way.

“I keep telling’ ye to watch where yer going, Launchpad!” Scrooge waving his arms around while keeping his exasperation down on the sight of wreckage at his driveway.

“Sorry, Mr. McDee.” Launchpad rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sigh, please let's just look over the damages and cover it.” As always, Mrs. Beakley is the mediator, and with that, Scrooge sighs in defeat.

“Are you guys alright?” Donald asks as he hugs them, and the triplets reply after he reluctantly let them go.

“We're okay.”

“Disappointed to not have a single scar to tell a story. but we’re fine.”

“Traumatized, but still alive somehow.” Donald glances over to the girl who hasn’t reply yet.

“What about you, Webby?”

“O-oh! I'm alright!” She is surprised, but they could see a huge smile landed on her face as it gives him the uncanny feeling of Della, that energy and curiosity are perhaps the reasons.

_She's growing on me._

_But they're_ **_not_ ** _your kids._

He flinches, but he shakes it off as he has a new thought.

How's he going to break the news?

He knows his family too well and easily senses the fierce determination in their eyes, the thought comes to him and his gut churns. He trusts Della, but never Moonlanders, he just couldn’t. There's something that makes him uneasy on the selfie picture she sent, but what is it? What is there going to be wrong? Is it about her friends? He berates himself to not trust her new “friends”, but he couldn’t help himself.

_What makes me uncomfortable?_

If he just announced everyone about Della's situation on the moon, they might boldly get in the ship without any plans and will be in danger! She thinks it's safe, but he thinks not.

_Safety, Donald, don’t forget their safety._

How's he going to tell them without them trying to go to the moon?

_Simple…_

Della said she can't go back because of the lack of needed materials to fix the ship ever since the moon mite incident. She said the gold will melt on the Earth's atmosphere, she can't just build a golden rocketship.

_You…_

And having more people joining will result in more risks (and losses), no matter how capable they are. He could just tell Scrooge to pay the professional astronaut and rescue her, yet there's something he amiss and got him to doubt on the best option, unless…

_Save **her**._

**“There’s a last Spear of Selene, but it is a different model as this was intended only for rescuing one person only, so it only has one seat each for the pilot, the rescuer, and the survivor.”**

**“So that Scrooge’s cost will be minimum as possible and have more eyes to look over.”**

**“Right. Luckily, we have enough materials to modify it. However, the parts have gotten rusty and had to be replaced. This costs a lot.”**

**“But without modification, it's really huge that I think even three or four children can fit.”**

**“Yes, but it is still unadvisable as it doesn’t have extra seats, especially to those who have no experience on space… And here’s the bill.”**

**“I don’t think Scrooge will be happy to see this cost, he might go bankrupt again.”**

_… **I** will…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Hah! I suck at writing! :D
> 
> Do you guys think Della's moon friends are good or bad? Do you think Donald is right about them, or he's just paranoid? Who knows! I actually had trouble about it.
> 
> Oh, as I was scanning around the writer's tumblr blog, there's a specific ask about Donald. And all he replied is "...", and that's got to be the most ominous answer.
> 
> Frank, please no!
> 
> And wow, I actually also suck at doing background art, huh? Well, I tried after tedious hours. :')
> 
> Oh, and thanks for 29 kudos! :)


	3. Chapter 2 - Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I only write beginning author's note whenever there are changes on past chapters. On Prologue, I only made minor changes of Donald's sleeping location (because I forgot about "Storkules in Duckburg"), and on Chapter 1, at the very end, there are additional dialogues of flashback conversation.
> 
> Sorry about it.

 

“Uncle Donald, are you okay?” Huey asks as Donald spaces out while gazing nowhere as it is usually a sign of whenever his uncle is thinking something, in which it sparks his concerns. The latter blinks and snaps out as he comprehends around him before realizing what he did.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay, Huey.” When he's about to question him, Donald raises his hand to show he is not in a mood to talk. Huey reluctantly lets him go as he decides to not push him further.

Beakley announces that everyone should go back to the manor and have a shower. If there’s one thing they all agreed on, is that having such a refreshing feeling in taking a shower after another of their adventures is, and will, always the best thing. Scrooge is at the lead with the children behind him, and the last other three adults, Beakley, Launchpad and Donald, are at the tail of their trail, all trekking to the door and entrancing themselves with warm light.

Donald often has no need for a shower whenever he hasn’t been through a “thrilling” adventure or working on a job, but the sudden knowledge about his sister is the exception, especially almost having a breakdown, and so he changed the “no shower” to “shower later”.

He waddles long way to the kitchen as he was the cook of the morning, then he will be the cook of the night. He trudges over the (finally) dried white tiled floor and makes his way to clean his hands up, and starts up the preparation of utensils and ingredients. The cook thinks up of what should be their dinner today, “and pantry is still a big NO after being trapped inside last time.” He shudders at being inside such closed space again that he might even start to develop claustrophobia, so he decides that he should bake by himself for dessert.

After minutes of searching and preparing, “Uncle Donald?” He squawks in surprise as he mutters, “what’s with surprising me when I was going to cook?”

And no, he didn’t forget anything.

“I thought you're going to take a shower, Huey?” Donald turns around to see Huey fiddling his red shirt with sheepish smile and heaving chest at the doorway, but that changes as he puffs his chest out with confidence.

“I did.” The uncle squints his eyes to find nothing on Huey's refreshed look with a small hint of weary, giving him an impression that he must've been running all the way to the kitchen, as his face shows honesty only, and he smirks.

“Of course, I almost forgot one of the rules - the Junior Woodchuck must never be late for their lesson from what I've remembered.”

“Oh right, you used to be it.”

_In a short time, I am. Damn, my bad luck for that. How does Della manage this curse?_

“Dewey will be jealous if he knows you finished earlier.” They both chuckle.

“He will be, but please don’t tell him, or else he'll do it as a contest.” Donald knew Dewey's competitive spirit, and so please give others' mercy if he has a new opponent, especially if that opponent is Huey. He winks at the eldest.

“I won’t,” Donald gestures Huey to enter inside and places him on the chair for him to see the top of the counter with organized ingredients and utensils, “shall we start? Oh, please wash your hands first.”

* * *

 “And that's how you do it,” Donald finishes as the kitchen is surrounded with delightful aroma with the ambiance of glowing flame, “do you understand now, Huey?”

“Yes, Uncle Donald!” Huey smiles with glee in response as they both watch around them, proud to see the results of their practice went smooth, besides of little incident of “cloud of flour” and “walking on the eggshells”.

The silence ensues as it brings them with mixed feelings before the pre-teen sighs as he gazes to the adult.

“Uncle…” Huey weakly responds on the broken silence, and Donald recognizes that look on his face and knows that he is now walking on the landmines with fog of uncertainty.

“What is it?”

“Does Mom knows how to cook?”

“She does know few, but other than that, she's terrible at it, I think.” He chuckles at the memories of him trying to teach his sister to cook, but she always couldn’t stand still, even waiting for the kettle to boil drove her crazy as she wants for action.

“You think?”

“I have a reason why. One time, when we tried to bake a cake for Uncle Scrooge, she kept saying that setting the oven with higher temperature would make it faster, but I said otherwise, yet she switched it up when I wasn’t looking, and it didn’t end well for us as we almost burned the house down, especially with Scrooge almost having a heart attack.”

“And the other time is when she tried to cook at MIDNIGHT! Oh boy, I tell you that her ruckus certainly woke everyone up in this mansion. Uncle Scrooge and I thought there was a burglar, despite the manor's high security, and we only found her crying on the floor with eggs and flour everywhere.”

“Oh wow…”

“Yeah, wow… But she is always aware of her mistakes, so she finally followed by the book after few practices. And I don’t know whatever and whenever she practiced and improved her cooking since I'm always going somewhere to take a break. She is the determinator on learning to what she finds it fun, so that’s my reason.”

_But never learned to listen to **you.**_

“I really would love to meet her.”

“And she would too.”

_She definitely will._

“… Uncle Donald…”

“Hm?”

“I know you don’t want me to question you, but I’m worried. Awhile ago, you were spaced out for more than a second as you seemed to be thinking something. So, I wanted to ask if there's something in your mind.”

“Oh, uh… Well…” He stammers as he has yet decided whether to REALLY tell them or not, and he relents as he goes with the “truth, but not the reason”. Also, he has questions.

“If you ever get a chance to save your mother, would you rather risk everything for her? Even your life?”

“Uh, y-yes, I will do it whatever it takes.” Confirming the determination.

“Okay, so what if others wanted to join in the risky adventure? Do you want to have a better chance to save, but also higher losses?”

“Yes, because I trust them.” Confirming the trust.

“And… if someone else that is one of your family took that opportunity and left without telling anyone, except you because they didn’t want more risk on their family, will you stop them?” That question is too much as he finally catches up his words, smacks himself for opening up himself wide and hoping Huey won’t think too much about it, but the suspicion is there, he knows it and that something is off as Huey's eyes are scanning him

“… That depends.” That answer surprises him. He expects him to say yes, but not maybe. “I trust them on their reason, to their capability, and their judgment. But I'm hurt that they didn’t trust us and would leave us without saying goodbye...”

_Hurt…_

“Why are you asking?” Donald sighs as he absentmindedly preparing dinner and Huey is assisting him.

The silence is back again.

_I don’t know. Maybe the sudden announcement about your mother is actually alive on the moon after ten years shocked me? Maybe I was thinking the way, so no one will join and die while trying to save her to something I have a bad feeling about? Maybe I was thinking of how will I save her?_

After pouring the contents on bowls and plates, he glances up and hears nothing, “the kettle hasn't whistled yet,” so he orders Huey to call Mrs. Beakley to get help on preparing the dinner table.

_Maybe I should bring them in._

He shakes his head in exasperation.

_No, I already made a decision that I will do it by myself._

_…_

_But I decided that I will tell them._

_I don’t want the missing incident repeat again._

“Uncle Donald! The kettle is whistling!” Huey shouts out.

“Wha-!“ In sudden panic, he tries to grab a whistling kettle with his bare hands, but instead on a handle, the hands wrap on its body and didn’t end well for him again.

“WAHHHHHH!” Donald shrieks in burning pain. Huey hastily turns on the sink after he plugs the hole.

“PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE SINK!” And in a blink of an eye, Donald has his hands dip on the cool water, and the two sigh in relief.

“Phew… thanks, Huey.”

“No problem,” Huey switches the stove off, left the kettle for it to cool down to appropriate temperature and gestures Donald to lift one of his hands to see the burnt hand, and while Huey diagnosing his hand, Donald looks away, finding something to interest him to have nothing that is eye-catching, “since it’s the first-degree burn, make sure to leave it there for twenty minutes and apply antibiotic ointment afterward. I think we have those in the first-aid kit.” He explains as he let go of his hand.

Donald dips his hand back to the water and eyes to Huey, who is currently searching a first-aid kit in the kitchen cabinets, following with a sigh. “Thanks again, Huey.” He says with his weak smile across his face while mentally chastising himself for not being too careful.

When Huey seems has no plan to leave the kitchen until he finds what he needs, Donald takes it the opportunity to answer.

“It’s just…”

He gulps as he's about to take everything out to the eldest triplet, the one who is willing to be responsible for his family and to feel the burden on his shoulders, but he knows to himself that secrets will eventually be revealed, so he vents.

_“Why are you asking?”_

_It's not the reason, but it's the truth._

“I thought of…” Huey finally has his attention on him, “what I could've done to stop your mother on going adventure on outer space so she won’t have to risk her sons’ lives. I could’ve pestered her over and over until she concedes, but I should know my sister o' mine. She loves to find new places around the world. She loves to have new excitement. She loves to be crafty with her quick wits. She's not someone to give up once her mind sets on something. She has such devotion, and I…” Donald swallows as he looks over the rippled reflection of his face with incoming tears, blinking away with his shaky breaths under his bill.

_…called her worst mother._

Sensing his distress, Huey embraces his uncle with a hug, “it’s not your fault.” He reassures with a soothing tone while listening to Donald's choking breaths before he heaves, to his relief. “It already happened, and we can’t change the past. But I'm sure Mom already forgave you from above.” Donald chuckles of how right Huey is while messing himself with a sob. He thought he was stronger, but he's still the same.

**_I had enough of it! You always went to adventure and never care for your family! You are the worst mother!_ **

_But forgiveness says otherwise._

No one moves an inch until the dinner comes.

Leaving along the unspoken silence with a promise to speak no word.

* * *

 After satisfying dinner and sharing stories of adventure (with some moments of slip up to which it caused Donald to have another argument with Scrooge) and a nice shower, Donald went to his houseboat as he unlocks the door without any rush, welcomes himself inside until he’s in the bedroom again. He is still processing the day's events as it is too much to take in before he snaps out that he forgot to give the recording to the boys as he pockets his cellphone out and decides to do it tomorrow.

_I'm pretty sure they will just watch for a whole night and not go to sleep. She's their mother, so I'm sure they'll watch in one sitting, and I can’t blame them for that._

He places it on the drawer, but far from alarm clock because he doesn’t want the certain grump tomorrow to throw it out on the window and hit another grump, even if it is on other side of the room with enough distance, bringing out his other nightwear and changing to it, laying himself on his hammock and have a usual shut eye, but he couldn’t as he turns over once, twice, thrice and so on, so after half an hour, he accepts with horror and despair that he can’t sleep.

_Time to take a walk again._

Whenever he has something in his mind or couldn’t sleep, he usually walks around to have a sense of space to take things off in his head. He can look at his surroundings to see interesting people and weird stuff and make up some silly stories. And he can take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature, especially watching the stars above along the sea breeze, savoring the minutes. It's always his favorite activity.

Donald wanders around the manor before he discovers there's a light shines through one of the windows, specifically from the kitchen. He wonders of possibilities like someone grabbing water or milk or sneaking in to get snacks, but he realizes that he couldn’t deny a possibility of a burglar, somehow passed the high security, so with newfound fear and curiosity, he is tiptoeing his way with increasing volume of clanks and peeking through the window before he sighs as he found a figure busying with a pan.

“I hope he isn't going through that phase. I had enough with a lot of troubles.” Donald mutters before he taps the window, getting attention to someone from the other side, but his back didn’t turn, so obviously he didn’t hear it.

“Hubert, open up the window.” Huey hears his muffled voice and is shocked to encounter his uncle on the other side with his bemused frown, knowing he's about to get lectured. He turns off the stove and rushes to open the window, giving him a nervous grin and awkward chuckles that didn’t make their mood better.

“Hubert, may I ask of why are you cooking middle of the night?” Donald interrogates with his arms cross, eyes are squinting and, of course, a frown. Huey rubs the back of his neck before he replies.

“Oh, uh, well, I was unable to sleep, and I forgot to thank you, so I thought I should do pancakes as practice for tomorrow.”

Donald is surprised before he laughs while Huey is confused.

“Funny, that's what your mother did. Remember what I said about her crying on the floor? I forgot to mention that she's trying to make a pancake.”

_Ah, what a nice coincidence._

“But the difference is that you succeeded it, I think?” Donald looks behind to find no mess.

“Yeah, but I had troubles with it.”

“No one has no troubles in the first try.” Donald pats his head.

“So, uh, am I off the hook?”

“Maybe, is it with black licorice syrup?”

“Yup!”

“Alright, but you better go to sleep.”

“Thanks, Uncle Donald! Oh, uh, are your hands okay?”

“They're fine. Fine enough to hold on”

Huey passes him a plate of pancakes with a familiar syrup with its delightful smell. Donald takes a small bite and shows him a smile after his tongue savor the taste as Huey is nervous for the taste until the smile gives him a sigh of satisfaction and relief. Later, Huey yawns and says goodnight to him, switches lights off and closes the door with a creak and click.

Donald went to the garden, sits down on the grasses while finishing up the pancake and watching the moon above, shivering from the cold breezes of night.

“Della, your boys have grown up so well…” He whispers as he places down the plate next to him.

“Ye couldn’t sleep too, my boy?”

His head turns his side to see Scrooge watching him down with his smile and two cups with familiar smell – hot cocoa and nutmeg tea, on both hands. Donald pats on the grass for Scrooge to have a seat beside him.

“I would say the same to you too.” Scrooge hands him a cup and sits next to Donald, sipping the tea with the similar flavor of allspice, and Donald follows suit with his hot cocoa.

“Good point.” Donald eyes on the cup and raises his questioned look, “how did you know I was awake?”

“I heard you and Huey while I was going to the kitchen to have nutmeg tea to relieve my insomnia." Donald hums in response while eyeing over the moon, wondering of what Della is doing. Scrooge sips quietly before he speaks.

"What does it tastes like?"

"It tastes pretty good." Scrooge hums this time.

“Glad to see he didn’t repeat ‘Midnight Mess' incident or else everyone willnae be happy.”

“Definitely. And plus, we didn’t have to clean a whole kitchen.”

“I still wondered how she managed to get batter covered almost every wall, including floor and ceiling. How does she mess that up?”

“It's her. She can make everything possible.”

“I cannae argue that.” Scrooge chuckles.

The moon is glowing down upon them along with the leaves and grasses rustling against the tenderness of the wind as if particular someone is offended from their words and is voicing their protest.

_Yeah, it's Della Duck._

_Somehow able to use the force of nature from miles away from Moon to Earth._

“Oh right, I forgot to thank you for giving me a drawer.”

“No need to thank. I have enough drawers in the manor, and I thought to give you an extra.”

“Still. It's better than reaching my clock on the floor.”

“Speaking about the clock, I went inside to put your clock back, and don’t ye think it's little cramp? Why not use the rooms at the bottom of your houseboat?”

“As much as I wanted to, I don’t. Someone had to guard the houseboat, even with your high security.”

“I’ll have ye know that my security is impeccable.”

“Uh huh, like that time when the Beagles crashed in the mansion, and it took days to fix all the damages they caused, or like what Huey said during your birthday party after Louie invited your nemeses, who all have their masks on and could've hurt the boys alone while you watched them figuring who is your ‘kidnapper?’”

“W-wha?! I thought I told them nae to-“

“Huey didn't. I watched your recording actually.”

“Curse me kilts! I should've transferred that video in another device.”

…

“What? It's my favorite! “

“But you're lucky that I'm not in the mood to lecture you on ‘keeping them out of trouble’ and not 'getting them in trouble.’” Donald says as he yawns before an idea pops out. He gazes at his uncle’s eye, lifting his cup but still looking at him, and he is slurping his drink loudly to spite his uncle, in which it works as the latter shows the face of disgust.

“Do yer dinger! Stop that, ye gowk!” And that suffices Donald for him to cease his slurps and smirks to his displeasure.

“But this teaches you instead.”

“I made a mistake on giving you that cup.” Scrooge shakes his head in disbelief with disapproved glare, but he smiles. “You truly reminded me of your mother.”

“Why you say that?”

“She may have such temper like yours, but she's truly caring that she would even argue that I shouldn’t venture too much. But I'm-“

“Scrooge McDuck. Tougher than toughies, smarter than smarties, I get it.” Donald mocks with his hand imitating his words, and he finds Scrooge's glare to be hilarious as he snickers before Scrooge rolls his eyes.

“Indeed, I am.” Scrooge continues. “I truly missed Gideon (even though he annoyed me), Matilda and her around and their lively and wild atmosphere, but I know to myself that I must move on. There are many days that I wished to take back some of my words and should spend more time with her and family.”

“… I wished it too.” Donald drinks the last of his cocoa and sets it on top of the plate beside him. After a minute, Scrooge passes his teacup to him, and he puts it on top beside his cup.

“I wonder why the youngest sibling is always the scariest, yet they are influencing to the family,” Scrooge mutters, and Donald gives him a weak smile.

“Being eldest sure is scary.”

“Ha! If Della heard that, she would complain a lot!”

“Not my fault for being the first to came out that egg.” They both laugh on the open as the wind laughs along with its humor. The laughter stops. Scrooge looks at his nephew straight to the eye, indicating a serious conversation coming up.

“Donald, this is something I really wanted to tell you. I know a simple apology is not enough to fix everything between us that I wanted myself to be blameless, but I knew how foolish I was to think of it.”

“Scrooge…” With his raised hand, Donald shuts himself up and let Scrooge have his moment.

“But I just wanted to say I'm sorry for everything I've done. I know I can’t bring Della back, and I don’t expect to bring our old days back, but I wan- no, needed to let you know that I am truly pathetic for not even trying to be your uncle… their uncle…”

“I do not expect your forgiveness. I just wanted to let you know that I am truly sorry for hurting our family. And… I also don’t want you to blame yourself more than it should be.” Donald widens his eyes in realization before he softens.

“You noticed, huh?”

“Yes, I do. And I hate myself for not helping you ten years ago.”

“Hypocrite…”

“What was that?”

“Hypocrite, you’re a hypocrite.” _I am too._ “Do you even heard what you just said? You said I shouldn’t blame myself, but I know that passing through your damn ego, you’re also blaming yourself.”

“Listen, Scrooge, what done is done, and the only thing that is worth to apologize is to do what you unable to do- Spend more time with your family. And I already accepted your forgiveness as you’re always there for the kids on your adventure, of course, I'm still mad at you for risking their lives, but at the end of the day, I always trust you because I know you love your family more than anything. Della… would’ve wanted you to do that…” _I am too…_

Donald inhales deeply before the waterworks coming out on his eyes, glisten from the moonlight, searching through his millions of thoughts to confront no lies. He meant it all. He let it all out. He forgave him. And Scrooge beholds him with the familiar soft smile, the same smile that holds very special to him, the smile that truly reveals Scrooge's true feelings, no reassurance, no malice, no lies, no façade.

Donald opens up his arms and Scrooge invites himself to his hug, burying himself on his shoulder with growing damp, but he doesn't care, clinging his dear life on his nephew as his body shakes along with his shallow breaths and sniffles, and Donald rubs his back while giving soothing whispers.

“They need you as one of their family. “

The Moon continues to glow

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : So uh, no chapter art for now because I haven't posted for awhile, but I will do it eventually.
> 
> If you guys wondering why I'm missing, I've been through OJT for 10 days (per 9 hours) and all I do is encoding the report cards, boy, most of students' names were beyond ridiculous yet awesome, and the best one is "ABCD XYZ". And no, I don't think it's an error because the enrollment form and the report card are the same, so what the heck? I encoded 200+ cards in 10 days.
> 
> Have you guys seen the latest episode? I am dying. I guess this AU is just adding " The Golden Spear!" with little of realism.
> 
> Oh, and do you guys want to hear two of my dreams?
> 
> One is Donald and Scrooge fighting against something during afternoon, but Donald was flown out the battlefield and lost his both of his legs (a lot of blood) but the Beagle Boys (thanks Huey for befriending them) saved him and have new prosthetic legs, Scrooge relented in fear of losing his family and agreed to evil leader's contract to join him, so no one will die, but Donald isn't happy, so he infiltrated in the Money Bin to get Scrooge, who is being miserable in the vault with the leader, but he accidentally alarmed the security, so he had no choice but to go to secret passage, Scrooge knew it was his family trying to save him, but not Donald.
> 
> And the other is amnesiac! Donald, Scrooge, Webby and the triplets went adventure on forest(?) and found an inn named "Evertree Inn" that is literally a freaking tree inn, and there, they met Magica. But Magica said that she has no plans to do evil for now because she's tired after last fight, and so the scenes of the family being suspicious, except Donald, who is actually befriending her! They actually hit it off so well! They laughed! They had fun! They're like friends, to everyone's concern. Anyways, Scrooge entered to laundry room to have a talk with Donald about Magica when he saw him using magic by using a pink whirlwind on laundry, and Scrooge asked how he knew magic, and Donald said it was from Magica.
> 
> Strange.
> 
> Oh, and thanks for 11 kudos.


	4. Chapter 3 - Nightmare

Donald and Scrooge have been hugging for some time with whispers of reassurance and shaky breaths, not wanting to let go the other like it's the end of the world until Scrooge exhales raggedly and reluctantly pulls away to look at his nephew with good solid minutes before he smiles again as he sniffles while wiping his tears with his sleeves.

“You're truly just like your mother, Donald.” Scrooge stands up with the wind breezes along his feathers. “And I'm proud for you.”

Donald also stands up and grabs the plate with both cups on top. “Thanks, Uncle Scrooge.” He replies with his smile as a return.

Scrooge chuckles, “it’s been long time since you called your old man uncle without any tension between us.”

They both yawn and realize of the time has been past midnight, “That’s a nice insomnia reliever. I would love to do this again. Anyhoo, see ye tomorrow, Donald.” Scrooge turns his back and is about to leave, and Donald opens up his beak as his mind chatters his thoughts.

_Do I want to let them know now?_

“Listen,” Scrooge stops and turns to him.

_Even though this man has a power?_

“I…”

_Even if the boys can’t come, he will do anything to come with me._

“Scrooge…”

_He's a tough fighter with wits, yes, but… **There will be something bad to happen, and he's no exception.**_

_But I already decided._

“I have something to say tomorrow morning after breakfast, and this is important.”  
I just need to be smart.

Scrooge raises his eyebrow and scans over his nephew’s serious look, knows his no-nonsense nature despite his usual sarcasm, and it is something of what makes Scrooge feared and also should be prioritized, especially after not heeding his warnings got Della disappeared.

“Why not now?”

“It's past midnight, and it would be better for everyone to know at once.”

“If so, then I'll make sure all will be on the table.”

“I trust you on that.” Scrooge returns to what he supposed to do before Donald yells out, “Wait!”, in which it gives him a nice taste of heart attack.

“Curse me kilts! What is it?!” He yells back before Donald hands him the plate and cups, “This! You’re about to go back to the mansion, so it would be nice for you to bring these back.” Ah, there's the Donald he usually knows. Scrooge rolls his eyes, but nods and accepts without any complaint.

“Tomorrow’s breakfast?” Donald questions again, and there's no second thoughts for Scrooge, so he answers.

“Aye, see ye at tomorrow’s breakfast.” Donald faintly smiles and nods in understanding.

“Good night, Uncle Scrooge.”

“Good night to you too.” Scrooge finally left his place with a plate and cups on his hands as Donald watches his shrinking figure on the distance until he went inside the mansion, sighs and gazes up at the moon.

“Della, I hope you're still okay up there.” Donald murmurs before he shuffles his way to the houseboat, lies himself on a nice worn hammock and let his exhaustion takes over with his eyes shut tight and his mind drips to the abyss.

* * *

 

In the abyss, a lonely duck is below the dimming spotlight along the silence as his only audience in his circus. He begins to step with another step as the claps from the absence with the light guides, weaving his gaze at the distanced darkness, who also gazes back to him.

_Again…_

Donald gulps along the gathering fear, yet also with remaining perseverance and sudden courage, foolishly marches onwards further that feels forever. It has been minutes or hours or days or even months, he doesn’t care any less, even with burning legs and lungs, as he always try to go on. Perhaps it loops him back, or perhaps he isn’t going anywhere, or perhaps there's an invisible wall he didn’t notice, but he blames on the spotlight more for fooling him.

He finally left from the under of the attention before with a nice clank to be heard, abandoning him to black until it spots on someone. Silence left his show as it will be the audience to the other.

Before he knew, he finds himself sitting besides the silence.

 

**_Ladies and gentlemen! May I now present a story time for our audiences to listen and-_ **

_I should leave…_

**_It's about the stars!_ **

_I better leave._

**_Here we have our favorite duck-_ **

_I want to leave!_

**_Scrooge McDuck’s niece-_ **

_I NEED TO LEAVE PLEASE!_

**_Della Duck!_ **

_… I can’t leave…_

 

And behold, his sister appears before him as the brother frowns upon seeing her. He was supposed to smile for her, but he already knew the end of this ”story time” and wanted to say “The End.” That would be a naïve dream. The corners of his beak twitching while gritting the pit of his stomach, sweat glides between his feathers and trickles to the end, and his whimpers to wake up from the nightmare he's in only to fall to the deaf ears.

_But I know I can’t._

“Hello, I'm Della Duck! And I love to explore through many mysteries and have new excitement with my brother and my uncle!” Donald waves for her with little of his enthusiasm and sighs in defeat, let himself seat on the darkness, being on the sidelines in this mocking circus again.

_Here we go again._

“I am also a mother to my three triplets! Isn't that exciting?!” Della dances as she bounces with ray of light trails upon her, carrying out her passionate bliss to her twin as he smiles when she brightens everything that even spotlight is nothing to compare.

_Yes, it is. You were really happy at that time. Happy is not enough to describe it. Ecstatic, elated, glee, joy, and every vocabulary I had yet known that means happy._

“But when there isn't any new adventure to do except to the beyond,” Della points up to the dark sky, and Donald deeply frowns and fidgets his fingers as his sweats abide its sailing to the end of his feathers and disappear as it drip in the abyss. Of course, It is still a nightmare, so he should've known to not hope for something better. “Why not go to the stars with my sons?”

 _Stop_ _it._

“My brother told me it's a bad idea-“ He commands himself to stand up and is about to shout, but the shadow glowers at him. He gags and tumbles down.

_Please…_

“and called me the worst mother for not thinking about my children, only cared my own excitement.”

_Shut up! You’re not the worst! Your entry shows it! You've been working for that damned ship for decade that even when you failed, you still decided to study and would do anything to come back to us, to your family. You will do everything, even if it almost kills you. Your love doesn’t compare to many that I don’t even think I could say how much of it._

_Della, I was wrong to say that._

“And I'll prove him!”

_Don’t!_

“I told you so.” His mouth betrays his mind as he helplessly stares back to Della's hurt look. Why can’t he look away? Why even look away? Better question- Why has he not deny his four words?

_**Because you are right.** _

“I’ve been gone for ten years, and I guessed I deserve that. You are right. You are always right.”

_Don’t smile like that…_

Donald regretfully watches Della with her slumped shoulders left the spotlight as the light went off with a clang, echoes with upcoming horrible revelation comes to him again as the guilt eats him alive and witnesses the events again with a flick to his both eyes on familiar sight.

The threatening red glows above.

_**T R A N S M I S S I O N    L O S T** _

He closes his eyes, begs for it to end, repeats in saying “No” with growing despair as he does not want to experience the first time he felt when he thought Della died. He cries out with a broken voice and wishes to wake up on his hammock again and tell Scrooge, his boys and everyone that Della is alive. Della is alive. She's alive. That’s all what matters to him. This nightmare is fooling him.

_Della Duck is alive!_

 

A loud boom is heard as he falls down from his swinging hammock and hits his head. He is breathing wildly, sweating profusely, trembling nonstop as he scans around him to find back in the reality. He's been more grateful than ever.

He brushes his hands against his cheek to feel his tears dripping down and wipes it with his sleeves. He crumples on the wooden floor as he sways along the houseboat, needing his moment to be alone.

It has gotten worse and worse since the disappearance of his sister, albeit that it is rarely but still enough damage to him, and it’s been frequent in this month. Whether it is his cursed bad luck, drowning regret, eating guilt, the nightmare is still there to haunt him no matter what. He pleads for it to stop, but it has been a decade.

He’s tired.

And he collapsed.

Before he goes to sleep dreamlessly with an ending note.

“ _ **I told you so.**_ ”

 

…

…

…

…

Do…Wa…

Donald…

Wake…

Up…!

 

Donald flutters his eyes as his vision blurs, so he blinks repeatedly to see his uncle holding on his shoulders, crouching down with concerned look on his face before he breathes in relief upon finding his nephew well, but still worried.

“Unca’ Scrooge?” Donald weakly muttered.

“Yes, it's me, yer Uncle Scrooge.” Scrooge soothes, cradling his nephew as he's comforting him.

“Why are you here?” Scrooge stares at him, who is still recollecting and fluttering his eyes, and he answers.

“There was an attack from the Beagle Boys. They used some dynamites and did a lot of damage on the outside wall of mansion. And you weren’t there in the mansion, so we were worried that something happened to you.” Normally, he will be touched that his family cared for his well-being, but his mind is still a mess and takes his time to clearing it.

“So that’s where the loud booming sound came from.” He is glad that the Beagle Boys can be so dumb to use explosives to alert everyone, or else he'll had to relive that damn nightmare.

“Aye, so what happened to ye, my boy?” Donald contemplates. He would express his troubles to the one who doesn’t have any experience in therapy but still comforts him in sharing, yet he also doesn’t want to because he's tired of everything and in his state, it is best not to do it for now.

“Hit my head on the floor thanks to the loud explosion and passed out.”

“…I believe ye.” With a good view, he could see his uncle has much more to say, but knows that it would be not good idea, especially in pitiful state. He's thankful for that.

“Beakley will take care the breakfast. You should take a bath and change your pajamas. You’ve been sweating a lot.” Donald groggily nods, and with that little confirmation yet still appeases him, Scrooge left. Donald exhales before he hesitantly stands up and glances his alarm clock. It's been fifteen minutes passed since the alarm.

And his eyes focus on one thing that is next to alarm clock.

“And tell them about Della.”

* * *

 

Who would've thought that the breakfast can intimidate him? Well, more like after breakfast, but it still counts. It's not like everyone is looking at him after Scrooge announced to be quiet for Donald, who is about to break down, as he is gripping the table cloth that’s going to be something to pay up for Scrooge.

Yeah, well, they did.

“Alright, Donald, no need to be nervous,” Failed on that one. “and tell everyone what you wanted to say.”

“L-listen up!” Voice cracks. Damn it. Oh well, his voice is bad enough, so why not make it worse?

“Yesterday, I received a call that there's a transmission signal being found. And they told me that it came from the above,” Scrooge widens his eyes in realization, “and that this is the same signal that has been lost for so long.”

Silence is in the table as Donald nervously glance from children, Beakley, and Scrooge, who seems about to cry, has courage to ask the question he had been waiting for.

“F-from who?”

He pockets out his cellphone and hands it over to the triplet.

“You all know who…” Whispers from the melancholic duck as Dewey takes it and looks at him, “To the gallery and it’s recent.“ And he follows and gasps with the other twins, who are peeking from his shoulders.

“Yes, Della Duck is still alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright! Donald said it! Now let me continue to suffer from the school.
> 
> Alright, so I've been stalking in this fandom and found out of why "Gladstone x Magica" is so popular because of the certain comic issue, and I ship them. Yet I also ship Donald x Magica because of my dream. Like seriously, I still remember of Donald and Magica talking on the roof of Evertree Inn while watching the sunset, and when Donald smiled at her with the sun glowing behind him, that's the moment that I have another ship.
> 
> They had a talk of how she can change to be better person, if she tries. Of course, she mocked that she can't, especially after hurting his family and Lena. But Donald said that it is better to try than to not because he believes in her.
> 
> So I add more story of it, and it ends with Donald inviting Magica by the lake to have a slow waltz. And Magica used her magic to bring back his memories and disappeared.
> 
> Donald still remembers of their time, just blurry. Whenever they meet again, Donald always tries to talk to her and would disappointed when she escaped.
> 
> And then there's my AU "Clear Blue". That will be later though.
> 
> Thanks for 35 kudos!
> 
> Anyways, see you in another month!


End file.
